


Under the Pomegranate Flowers

by AvengersNewB



Series: The Librarian and the Art Professor [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Food, Implied Sexual Content, Joe's family, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meet the Family, Professor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, countryside, like super implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/pseuds/AvengersNewB
Summary: Nicky has a few things planned for the weekend.Meeting Joe's parents for the first time at their country house goes smoother than he expected. Getting down on one knee to ask an important question, however, is a bit more complicated.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Librarian and the Art Professor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143539
Comments: 38
Kudos: 228
Collections: All and More (18+) Kaysanova Gift Bag 2020





	Under the Pomegranate Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [nasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/pseuds/nasa) in the [All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020) collection. 



> This is based on the prompt "Nicky meets Joe's parents" hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> Thank you so much to Kaerith for the quick and amazing beta, I appreciate your help so much!  
> Thank you to Sesh for what you did for me, you saved the day love, you're the best!  
> Thank you to Bae for existing in general <3
> 
> Thank you to my co-organizers for this event in [ All and More Discord server](https://href.li/?https://discord.gg/MdhHZBY) for their amazing efforts with this event and every member who took part in any way shape or form. We have an inclusive happy space there, and we are all crazy about Joe/Nicky, come check it out!

“Nervous?” Joe asks and stops the car right at the threshold of the orchard.

“Not at all,” Nicky breathes out and something clenches in his belly because God, he hates lying to Joe. “A little?” He takes a deep deep breath as Joe leans to place a quick kiss on his lips and keeps breathing, slowly in, slowly out, timing it with every other tree they pass by as they drive through the narrow road that’s gonna lead them to Joe’s childhood house. He pats his pants pocket, only a few times, just to be absolutely sure that the box is still there. 

He’s got this. He just has to meet Joe’s parents, hope they don’t mind Nicky borrowing their 40th anniversary for something that’s kinda not about them entirely, and wait for one more day. He can do that. 

He has totally, totally got this. 

***

Joe is a perfect mix of his mom and dad. 

Joe’s mom, with the same curly, out-of-control hair and the same enthusiastic, heartwarming smile, wraps her arms around Nicky and hugs him so tight that Nicky’s heart melts and skips a number of beats. She smells like _mom_ , like home, and a very elegant perfume that Nicky doesn’t recognize but falls in love with instantly. She peppers her kind welcome with some Arabic words and goes on and on about how handsome Nicky is, how obviously kind and passionate he seems, how she’s so happy to see Joe bring someone home after all these years, and how honored she is to finally meet Nicky. 

Joe coughs dramatically, and makes a face that says ‘stop spoiling my boyfriend,’ and steps away from his dad, who has the same unbelievably capturing eyes and beautiful long fingers that wrap around Nicky’s in a firm handshake. He doesn’t say much when he welcomes Nicky with a heavily accented English which reminds Nicky of his own dad, but there is something in those al-Kaysani-brand eyes that adds a lot of warmth to his words and calms Nicky’s crazy beating heart at least a little bit. 

*** 

“Joe’s bed is too small for two grown-up guys, but honestly we never thought he would bring anyone home, like ever.”

“Mom!”

Mounir - which means radiant, fittingly so - runs her hand through Joe’s curls and laughs out loud. “Don’t be shy Yusuf, it’s not a big deal that Nicky is your first real boyfriend.” 

“MOM!”

Nicky laughs too and for a second he wonders if it’s too inappropriate to take a step forward and wrap both of his arms around Joe and his mom. In a couple of days, he tells himself and shoves his hands in his pockets. He just has to hold on a little longer.

“First real boyfriend, ha?” he says, as Joe closes the door after his mom leaves following the long good nights and the final reassurance that they will let her know if they need anything. He shakes his head but a smile spreads all the way into his eyes as he turns to curl his hands around Nicky’s waist. 

“I’ve had plenty of boyfriends, FYI,” he says against Nicky’s lips, “it just happens that I never brought any back home with me.”

Nicky kisses his lips, soft and slow, mostly to give himself time to figure out how to speak again as words run away from him at Joe’s touch as usual. “I’m honored,” he says finally. “I can’t really tell you how much.” 

Joe kisses him this time, soft and slow, mostly to make Nicky forget how to speak, and he winks. “You know what this means though?” he says as he pushes Nicky a tad and Nicky takes a step back, not even thinking about keeping himself steady, and topples on his back on the bed. Joe lies on top of him and they both chuckle with the screech of the poor old bed. “It means that I’d never gotten any in this room.” 

So that’s what Nicky does, giddy at being the first boyfriend who gets to grab Joe’s wrists and turn them around on this bed, to take his time to unbutton Joe’s shirt and cherish every bit of olive skin that gets exposed, to tease and nibble, to kiss and kiss and kiss, to touch the sides of Joe’s rib cage, on the exact spot that makes Joe’s breath hitch and shiver.

“Shhh, we don’t want to wake everyone up.” He covers Joe’s mouth with one hand as his other one snakes around his chest. It’s just too easy to get lost in Joe’s body, and Nicky has to breathe and slow down to give himself a chance to fully appreciate the privilege of touching this masterpiece. To embrace the thrill of taking Joe apart like this, have him look so dazed and far-gone, biting Nicky’s fingers to keep his voice down. “I love you,” he whispers in Joe’s ear and wonders if one’s heart can explode from having so much love trapped inside. “Let go for me, gorgeous, let me see how beautiful you are when you come undone.” 

And Joe does that, he lets go and comes apart in Nicky’s arms, taking Nicky’s breath away with every little whimper and Nicky can’t keep it together anymore even if he tries. He lets go too, and gets carried away on this magical ride as they hold each other so close, their hearts beating together as if there is nothing between them; as if they’re finally one. 

***

Joe’s warm and solid against Nicky’s body and he’s snoring a little bit. The moonlight through the ninja turtles themed curtains glisten over his skin and Nicky doesn’t know what to do with himself if he doesn't roll over Joe’s sleepy body and kiss the hell out of his half parted lips. 

He slips out of the bed - which is seriously too small for two grown-ass guys - as smoothly as he possibly can, grabs his pants from the floor, and takes the small black box out of his pants pocket. He stares at the box for a while but doesn’t dare to open it. He can’t be sure that he won’t wake Joe up to tell him everything right this second if he does. 

***

Nicky follows the light, half sleepwalking and half too buzzed to sleep, and ends up downstairs in the kitchen. Mounir is sitting at the small table giggling at her laptop and she doesn’t seem to be surprised to see Nicky’s figure at the door.

Nicky sits down on a chair and watches Mounir make tea at the stovetop - with a real kettle and a pot because _you can’t make proper tea in the electric kettle_ , a statement Nicky’s mom would definitely agree with. She then sits back down across the table and closes her laptop. “Did he kick you awake?” She tilts her head and watches Nicky with narrow eyes. “It’s a struggle to sleep in an al-Kaysani man’s bed right?” 

Nicky smiles and takes a sip from his mug. “Not because he kicks.” It is a struggle, for sure, to live with his one al-Kaysani man for reasons he’s never thought of talking about even with Joe himself, but it just feels right with Mounir, with her chin on her hand, and her eyes not leaving Nicky’s face; it just feels right to go on. “He’s just so damn perfect, you know? It’s scary sometimes,” or a lot of times, or all the time, “to try to keep up with that.”

“Ah tell me about it. Why would they never get angry at small things?”

“And always so selfless. It’s so annoying right?” 

“If I had a dinar for every time Faris just smiled and held me in his arms, while I was kicking and screaming, I would have been able to keep my ommi’s house back in Bin Arus.”

Two herbal teas and a million muffled laughs later, Nicky can easily tell where so many of the things he loves about Joe come from. His wit, for example, and his hot-headed opinions about social justice and public welfare, his love for education and respect for kids, his big heart and big brain, the way he’s all Nicky’s ever wanted, and then some more.

He can’t be sure however, how they get to where they are in the conversation. 

“There is nothing wrong about being different,” Mounir says and runs her hand through her curls, in a very familiar gesture, just like when Joe is so lost in his thoughts and ruffles them more than they already are. “If a good partnership was about similarities, this particular celebration would not be happening tomorrow.” She stands up, walks around the table, and sits next to Nicky to hold one of his hands in her own. “It’s about understanding and appreciation. It’s about embracing the differences, dear, about completing each other. It’s hard work, every single step of the way, giving and forgiving and doing your best to enjoy it all.”

Nicky can’t possibly tell why he’s suddenly so overwhelmed. It’s the herbal tea, perhaps, or having no sleep in the past 48 hours. Or the small box that he shoved in his overnight bag before coming downstairs, all the emotions that he’s been trying to keep from Joe that are bubbling up in the darkest hours of the night, right before the dawn. 

It’s not about being the same indeed. It’s about being so damn lucky to have met your other half in this lifetime, on this planet. 

It’s magic.

It’s like destiny.

***

Joe wakes up earlier in his parents’ house, apparently, or the small bed has affected him too because he’s already showered and changed and is towering over Nicky and kissing his hair when Nicky opens his eyes. 

“You know this is my mom and dad’s 40th anniversary right?” he whispers into Nicky’s hair and Nicky curls against his heavenly-smelling figure. “There will be madness in about 30 minutes when Noor and her munchkins arrive and mom’s gonna make me spend time with you instead of helping, but that will last an hour before she panics from something my dad’s doing too slowly and yells for me to jump back in to help.” 

Nicky hums in response and Joe chuckles, his beard brushing over Nicky’s ears. “What I’m trying to say, sleepyhead,” and he tugs Nicky up, with enough power to detach him from the pillow and make him sit, albeit leaning on Joe’s body completely, “is that you should wake up right now, if you want us to have a minute to walk in the orchard together, and enjoy a quiet cup of dad-brewed coffee in peace.” He then kisses Nicky’s neck and the side of his face and runs his hands smoothly over his chest which is, well, not very helpful to make Nicky want to leave this bed and this colorful room that has posters of ‘Nelson Mandela’ and ‘Take That’, ever.

***

As Joe had predicted, Mounir shoos both of them out of the kitchen as soon as they come downstairs. Faris looks up from his cutting station where every color of every vegetable available to mankind can be seen and nods to both of them. Mounir lets Joe go back inside to grab coffee and Kaak Warka, but they get one piece each because they’re obviously for the guests and not to be eaten beforehand by the kiddies of the house.

As Joe predicted, yet again, they get around an hour to walk through the orchard. 

Joe shows Nicky the names he had carved on some of the trees, as they go through the citrus orchard and into the apple trees. They sit quietly for a bit at the spot that’s supposedly the burial ground for all of Joe's dead fish over the years and walk all around the lake where almost all of Joe’s childhood photos are taken. They take a lot of selfies by the lake. Nicky sends one back to the secret group chat and makes a mental note to come back tomorrow before they leave and take another photo showing off their hands, and some happy butterflies flutter their little wings in his chest. 

“The backyard looks exactly like my Nonna’s,” Nicky says as they walk back in the ‘backyard’, the large area at the back of the house secluded by long pomegranate trees in full bloom. He looks for some photos to show Joe from his last trip to Italy, many years ago, and they both snort like mad people as soon as he finds one. It’s literally apples and oranges because Nicky’s Nonna’s backyard is a field of tomato shrubs scattered around an acre of land. 

“Nicky, I understand,” Joe’s face turns suddenly serious, the way he looks in his lectures, or at least the ones Nicky had sneaked in to watch him teach. “They _feel_ the same,” he says and pushes an invisible strand of hair away from Nicky’s forehead. “Maybe we can go visit for—”

“YUSUF, GET YOUR BOTTOM IN HERE YOUNG MAN,” Mounir’s voice comes loud and clear from inside the kitchen, and Joe doesn’t finish his sentence. He looks over his shoulder toward the house and then turns back to Nicky. “Did I tell you that the morello cherries right at the back are ripe and ready to be picked?” he says and doesn’t wait for Nicky’s reply before dashing back toward the house. Nicky watches him run with those perfect long legs and can’t help but smile at how tactical Joe is: taking Nicky all the way to the lake and only showing him the cherry trees from afar. Not letting him know until now, when they’re back at the house, about the sour cherries that can rarely be bought in Australia. Joe knows far too well that Nicky’s Italian ass won’t be able to resist going back to the orchard to devour them.

They can go to Italy for a very special occasion, he tells himself as he walks out of the backyard once again. It’s just a short plane ride from Malta, where they’ll spend the next summer holidays if everything goes as Nicky has planned, and that would be the most special of the special occasions.

***

Noor is more spirited in person than she’s on Zoom. Yesmin and Farzan cling to Nicky and it’s just fantastic to finally see them all, to listen to Yesmin play her violin, which she's brought with her all the way from Sydney to play for his uncle Nicky, and give Farzan the books they’ve talked about so much, and sit down with him to read in person. They even sing something together, which is a miracle as their dad puts it because they never get along for more than 30 seconds; and a double miracle as Mounir says, kissing both of them so many times that it makes everyone else a little jealous because they’re never willing to speak Arabic to anyone, let alone sing the Arabic Teddy Bear Song that beautifully.

“The Kafteji is edible Noor,” Joe teases as they all sit down around the table in the backyard for a quick lunch. 

“Pedram’s done it this year,” Noor announces and curls her arm around her husband who coughs dramatically and does a mini bow. 

Joe bursts into laughter and reaches over the table to poke at Noor. “I mean it’s fantastic,” he yells as everyone else is now laughing, and Nicky can’t decide which one he enjoys more, the way Joe’s face is almost red with fake embarrassment or how Pedram nudges Nicky on the elbow and shakes his head in solitude, a fond secret message from an outsider to another, ‘we’re so lucky and so doomed to have tied ourselves to this family.’

“I’ve made two lunch desserts this year,” Mounir announces, as she comes out of the kitchen and everyone goes uncharacteristically quiet, which startles Nicky for a second. “In addition to the usual Shole Zard for Pedram to bribe him to put up with Noor, for one more year,” she says matter of factly but her eyes smile anyway, “I’ve made Tiramisu for Nicky, hoping it would be sweet enough to make him come back for more-” and she finally properly smiles “-you know, and put up with Yusuf until then.” 

Everyone goes back to talking and laughing and passing on the paper plates for dessert, but Nicky doesn’t know if he can eat anything right now. It’s great that no one can tell how suddenly flustered he is, no one except Joe who pushes a plate with a bit of Shole Zard and a piece of Tiramisu toward Nicky, reaches for his hand under the table, and holds it with both of his. 

***

Noor drags her mom upstairs to do her hair and makeup ‘for the love of God’ because ‘she should at least put some lipstick on, just for tonight’ and Joe and Pedram take the kids to the shops, which is half an hour away, to get the ice. Nicky slips into Joe’s room and takes a shower, puts on the clothes he’s brought to wear for tonight, and brushes his hair. He looks okay, or perfect as Joe would definitely say if he was here, but Nicky wouldn’t be yet dressed if that was the case, so maybe it’s not such a bad thing that it’s only Nicky and the mirror right at this second. 

He then reaches in his overnight bag to get the black box, because it’s time, finally, and in just a few hours Joe will know and everyone else will know too. He doesn’t get a chance to obsess about Joe’s answer though, not this time, because he can’t seem to find the box.

With his heartbeat going up steadily, he takes everything out of the bag one by one, shakes every piece of clothing, turns the bag inside out, and shakes the bag too, but the box is not there. 

_It’s not there._

The little black box with the ring that Nicky had spent so many sneaking hours looking for inside. The ring that Nile had made sure is the perfect size, by tricking Joe into wearing many different rings on different occasions. The ring that he had to take Quynh, Andy, and Booker to the shop to get their approval before making the final decision to buy it. The ring he’d planned to give to Joe tonight, on his parents’ 40th anniversary, in his childhood backyard, the very same ring that he’d checked on 4 hours ago when he sneaked upstairs to get a jacket he didn’t really need.

It’s not there.

It’s gone.

***

He looks through every inch of the bedroom. He then looks around the bathroom, the hallways, the staircase, and the kitchen. He looks in the fridge, the cupboards, and under the table he was sitting last night. He then goes outside, past pomegranate trees, very close to the beehives he can swear he did not see this morning, through the pear trees and the morello trees, and all the way to the lake, wondering for a second if the ring's lying in the bottom of the lake right now.

Stupid.

Nicky is being stupid. 

He did not have the ring on him last night. He did not have it on him this morning. The ring was in its stupid little box in the fucking overnight bag and it’s not there anymore. 

He wanders around and gets kinda lost before pausing in front of a large shed that he can’t tell for sure is still on the al-Kaysani property. He walks in anyway as something’s whispering inside his head that it won’t hurt to take a quick look around the shed just to be sure.

That’s it. He’s officially lost it. 

The small black velvet box is not in this shed, of course not, so Nicky sits on a big wooden box in a corner, stares at lots and lots and lots of tools organized in the neatest possible order, and wonders what on earth he’s supposed to do. 

He doesn’t know how to get back to the house from here, and he can't call Joe because his phone doesn't have reception here. He can't send an SOS message to the proposal group chat either, but there would be no use anyway, as there is no chance for either of his friends to have an answer for his simple question; a clue to where he can muster up a ring at this hour of the afternoon in the middle of country Victoria on a public holiday. 

Then the door opens with a dreadful screech like it’s a scene from a cheesy scary movie. And then Faris walks in.

***

Faris listens to Nicky ramble about all the failures in his life, as he holds Nicky’s hand, literally, and walks him back to the house. He listens as Nicky talks about his precious ring and all the plans and God, he doesn't want to be like this in front of his soon to be— well not anymore. Not without a ring. He’s fucked this all up and he can’t even hold it together enough to figure something out.

Faris doesn’t seem to judge Nicky though. He sits him down at the kitchen table and hums a tune that calms Nicky down even though he's never heard it before, and makes tea, with real kettle and pot of course. He pours the tea in the same mug from last night that he fetches from the washed dishes rack, as Nicky finally seems to have run out of words, and puts it down on the table in front of him. He clutches Nicky’s shoulder, smiles, and then walks out of the kitchen, without a single word, the sound of his heavy footsteps going up the stairs the only noise that can be heard in the whole house for a while.

He comes back though, as Nicky finishes the tea, which is not the same as last night but has the same effect. He sits down across the table and puts a small black box in front of Nicky which is not _Nicky’s_ lost black box but it makes his heart start beating fast in his chest anyway.

“Nicky,” he says and his accent makes Nicky’s name sound pleasantly different. “It is not about ring, as perfect as it was I’m sure.” He fiddles with the box and opens and closes it a few times. “He loves you, more than you think and he says yes if you ask him with a paper ring Yesmin can make.”

Put that way - and with a little help from the tea - the world does not seem to be coming to an end. Nicky closes his eyes for a second, takes a deep breath, and inhales the aroma of the food and the tea and all of the pastry that they’ve been cooking here since early hours of this morning. It is not about the ring, of course not, and no matter what his insecure subconscious might have to say having a ring disappear on him cannot be a sign of anything of any kind. 

He finally opens his eyes, a little relieved and a lot embarrassed, as Faris finally opens the black box. “You don’t have to ask without a ring,” he says and takes a ring out of the box. It’s an old simple band with no gems that has seen better days, but it’s stunning and takes Nicky’s breath away. “If you still want to ask, go ahead. My ring doesn't fit me anymore, with the swollen joints, and there is no better use for this than what you have planned.”

“But I can’t possibly accept—,” Nicky starts, as Faris reaches over the table and puts the ring in Nicky’s palm. “What about Mounir, she—” and he stops there because Faris shakes his head and closes Nicky’s fingers around the ring. “I asked her, son. She said she will be honored.” 

So they know. 

They all know that Nicky’s a bit of a mess, loses things that are so dear to him, and is incapable of handling problems gracefully and they will still be honored to have Nicky as one of their own.

It takes Nicky a few long seconds to get himself back together, walk around the table and hug Faris from behind. It’s too impulsive, he admits to himself later, something he might have never done under normal circumstances, but it's one of the best decisions of his life nevertheless because that moment, clutching to the ring and holding on to Joe’s dad like a lifeline, is the safest he’s felt in a very very long time.

***

The fairy lights in the trees twinkle all around the backyard and the air is buzzing with happiness. 

Nicky smiles and makes small talk with people he’s never met. He eats whatever they offer him, loses count of the many different things he drinks in so many different colors, and is already warm and giggly when Pedram tugs his hand and drags him away from the bunch of older ladies he's talking to, and into the kitchen. 

“This is Faris’s treat for us non-Tunisians of the family, to help us keep up the good work of tolerating whatever he thinks his kids are putting us through,” he laughs and takes a bottle out of a cupboard. “See, you think this is a European-special drink but I’m sure you did not know that it's also one of the most popular drinks in my homeland,”

He hands the bottle to Nicky and turns to another cupboard. They both nod to someone that Pedram probably doesn’t know either and wait for him to pass through the kitchen to go to the backyard. 

“Iranians drink grappa?”

“We sure do, mate, we sure do. Can you take a wild guess on what we call it though? I’ll buy you a bottle of Dan Murphy’s finest grappa if you even come close,” he says and sets a couple of matching tumblers on the kitchen table. 

Noor sticks her head into the kitchen from the window, opening it a bit further, and a wave of music and noise rushes inside. “Would you be a sweetheart and check on the kids upstairs?” 

Pedram turns and leans his side against the table to place a quick kiss on her forehead. “Already done, Ms. Light, no need to butter me up," he says and shoves her face back into the yard playfully, making Noor laugh and pretend to scream before he closes the window. 

“We call it Doggy Drink,” he says as he takes one of the tumblers from Nicky. “Because it burns, you know?”

Nicky drinks the liquid in one go and it sure does burn his throat, just as it always does, but it also warms its way down to his belly and back to his heart, the bubbles of happiness burst in his chest, and go all the way to the tip of his toes. 

“Cheers, mate,” Pedram says as Nicky fills the tumblers again. “Turns out we have much more in common than having fallen in love with these troublesome al-Kaysani kids.”

***

Joe looks perfect. 

It’s not like he can look bad, ever, even with the bed hair, or right after he comes back from a run, all sweaty and blushing. Nicky has a special preference for that look actually and doesn't mind adding to the amount of sweat that’s running all over Joe’s body with some techniques he’s learned over the past year. But tonight, he belongs in a fashion magazine photoshoot in that black shirt and grey suit that complement his skin tone with his hair slicked back so neatly that makes Nicky want to take that hairband off and mess his curls up right there and then. Not that he would really want Joe on the cover of a magazine though; some nice things are best kept a secret, very selfishly. 

“You look perfect, Nicky, I wish I could touch your ass right now,” Joe whispers as he passes by and shoves a plate full of Faris’s signature couscous in Nicky’s hand. He brushes a quick kiss on the side of Nicky’s neck to take his breath away and then disappears in the middle of the crowd before Nicky can return the favor.

Watching Joe dance is one of Nicky's favorite pastimes. He especially loves to catch him dancing in the kitchen to the now-familiar Arabic tunes that he plays when he’s cooking, thinking he’s alone at home. Nicky can appreciate his smooth moves for many reasons, and the beautiful smile that’s even happier now that he’s dancing right next to his mom and dad. It’s a blessing to be part of this, he repeats to himself, to exist in this slice of time and watch Joe being half embarrassed and half proud by how much his parents love and appreciate each other. To smile alongside Joe, and hold his hand, as Nicky pretends to know how to belly dance, to feel Joe’s warmth as he pulls Nicky in and they sway together, to be surrounded by the love of Joe’s people and somehow be just with him for a second, enveloped in the magic that’s Joe, his presence, the sheer miracle of his existence. 

“It’s time,” Noor whispers in Nicky’s ear, and just like that people take a step back and leave a circle of empty space around them. 

It’s time.

After a year of contemplation, while there was really nothing to contemplate about, a few months of doubt, because what if Nicky was not good enough, and a couple of hours of panic, that ended better than Nicky could’ve dreamed thanks to Joe’s dad being the patron saint of all losers, it’s time.

It’s finally time.

Nicky goes down on one knee and everything goes quiet. There is no wind even, and birds have apparently stopped on the trees to listen to what’s about to happen. There is this smile lingering on Joe’s face from a second ago when they were dancing in each other’s arms but it's starting to fade now that he seems to be catching up. “I love you,” Nicky says as he fishes the box out of his pocket, “I’ve loved you from the moment I set my eyes on you that summer afternoon in the library, and this feeling in my heart has grown every second of every day.” Why is his heart pounding in his chest? His throat, why is his throat suddenly dry like a desert? Why isn’t Joe smiling anymore, for God’s sake, when has he ever stopped smiling in the past year?

“You know I’m no poet, and I can’t make beautiful words in so many languages like you do, but I love you in the only couple of languages that I know.” Where are these words coming from? What was he planning to say in the first place anyway? He doesn’t remember. It doesn’t really matter.

“You’re the love of my life, Joe. You’re the definition of a better half, and I’m the definition of the worse, most probably, but I know deep down that you’re the one. You’re my heart, and my soul, and all I want for my life is to share it with you.”

Nicky has to stop to clear his throat and grab Joe’s hand because this is apparently going all wrong. Joe is looking around and Nicky can’t tell what he’s thinking, but then he looks back at Nicky, and Nicky’s heart slows down a little. 

“Nicky?” Joe asks, his voice hoarse, and wait, are those tears in his shiny bright eyes?

“Oh God, I had this all planned but you know how good I am in planning right?” Joe nods, and Nicky tries one last time. “Will you marry me?” he finally says and stops.

He stops thinking, breathing. He’s waiting.

Joe’s mouth opens and closes and Nicky wonders if he wants this moment to go on forever or to be over in the next heartbeat. He doesn’t know. It’s not up to him anyway.

“Nicky,” Joe finally says after what feels like an eternity, and Nicky doesn’t know if he’s ever heard anything more pleasant than Joe’s voice right this second. “Nicky, oh my God Nicky, yes, of course, of course I will marry you, Mr. ‘I’m no poet but I can make your brain come to a halt with my none-poems’!”

He starts pulling Nicky up and Nicky stands, his legs trembling under him, his head spinning a little, and they kiss, as people start to talk again and the birds start to sing. Someone claps and everyone else follows, and Joe wraps his strong arms around Nicky’s body, and holds him tight. He knows that he has to stop kissing Joe because his family is right there, someone is patting on his shoulder right now, but he goes on a little more, because Joe has just agreed to be Nicky’s husband, and the whole moment is too precious to let go of just yet. 

They finally break apart as Noor tugs Nicky away from Joe, literally, to give Nicky the biggest hug in the history of all sisterly hugs. Sister, he thinks suddenly, he’s going to have a sister from now on, and that’s what breaks the dam of welled up tears in his eyes, maybe, or Joe’s mom hugging them from behind, Pedram singing something that is either Arabic or Persian or neither, and Joe, showing the ring to his dad that fits perfectly on his finger.

***

As they’re packing to go back to Melbourne the next day, Nicky opens the side zipper of the overnight bag to put his toothbrush in, and nearly passes out. 

He pulls the small black box out of the side zipper, remembering the exact moment when he had put it there yesterday after grabbing a jacket out of the bag, and stares at it for a minute, or half an hour, or as long as it takes for Joe to go downstairs, put his own bag in the car and come back to get Nicky.

“Where do you think your parents would want to go for their next holiday, if they had a budget of, let’s say, 12,659 Australian dollars?” he asks and smiles to himself as he throws the little black box back into his overnight bag. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this a try and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Please let me know what you think, kudos and comments (including emoji reactions) are highly appreciated!
> 
> This is [Kaak Warka](https://www.laylasdelicacies.com/products/kaak-warka).  
> This is [Faris's couscous](https://www.196flavors.com/tunisia-tunisian-couscous/).  
> This is [ Noor and Pedram's Kafteji](https://https://howto-cook.net/recipe/kafteji-tunisian/).  
> This is [ the song Yesmin and Farzan sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMViLUtNP9w).  
> This is [Shole Zard, the dessert Mounir makes for Pedram](http://persianfoodtours.com/persian-saffron-rice-pudding/).  
> This is [grappa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grappa).  
> I'm sure everyone knows what Tiramisu is XD
> 
> If you're wondering what the deal is with the library, and how they met that summer afternoon a year ago, check out my other fic, [Love in the Library](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035374) :)
> 
> I know that in the comics Joe's father's name is Ibrahim, but please join me in handwaving that detail :) (or we can assume that he has both names?)
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


End file.
